


Swept Off My Feet

by kryptamazon (thefutureisequalaf)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Consensual Mind Control, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fisting, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Public Display of Affection, Telepathic Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisequalaf/pseuds/kryptamazon
Summary: Ginny and Hermione make their own fun at a Wizarding gala. Or rather, Ginny makes a bet, and Hermione makes the fun.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 118
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	Swept Off My Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



It'd seemed like a good idea at the time.

A gala masquerade ball. Ginny going straight there after practice with the Holyhead Harpies, Hermione coming straight from work at the Ministry, and both of them in bespoke designer outfits for the occasion. Really, how could Ginny not have proposed a sexy bet with her girlfriend? Whoever recognized the other first would get to be in control for the night. Ginny was nothing if not competitive.

Now, though… she didn’t regret making the bet, not exactly, but she didn’t care much for her odds of winning. The designer of her slinky, ankle-length satin gown, black and glittering like the night sky, had chosen to flaunt Ginny’s Quidditch arms and shoulders. Ginny was quite conspicuously the only dress-wearing ginger athlete in the ballroom, while Hermione might be any of the many average-height, brown-haired women in attendance. Ginny’s competitive side was not pleased at the prospect of losing her own bet.

Such thoughts held Ginny back from accepting several invitations to dance. Out on the ballroom floor, she’d be unmissable. Instead she contented herself with making small talk and scanning the gala for anyone who moved like Hermione. So far, no one did.

“Pardon me,” said a low voice from close behind her. “May I have this dance?”

At the first word, Ginny suspected the game was up. The brush of fingers on her hand as she turned, lacing between her own with effortless familiarity, confirmed her defeat. Then she was facing her girlfriend, and losing didn’t seem so bad.

Hermione was in a tux: marvelously tailored, dark purple, with matte black facings on the lapels and pant leg seams. The natural brown waves of her mane looked especially glorious tonight. A dark purple mask covered her eyes, but a mischievous grin was on full display beneath it. Ginny rolled her eyes and made a face as Hermione drew her into a hug—and stunned her with a kiss much too passionate for English society. For a moment, all Ginny could think was how many eyes might be on them, but then her girlfriend’s arms held her even closer, and Ginny melted into the press of bodies through clothes. So what if the whole of Wizarding society saw? She was snogging Hermione Granger, with tongue. Nothing beat that.

“You know,” Hermione purred when their lips parted, “it’s full dark outside. Would you say that night has started?”

Ginny needed a moment to catch up to her girlfriend. When Hermione’s meaning registered—the winner of the bet got to be in control _for the night_ —Ginny restrained her competitive glare before it showed. Yes, Hermione had won; Ginny reminded herself to be a good sport, and weighed the question. Did she want to give up the sexual reins now, in public? The ‘now’ part appealed to her, but… she took her lower lip between her teeth. “No touching through my dress.”

“At all, or in view of others?”

Ginny dragged at her lip. “Scratch that. Just don’t do anything that people might notice. Or anything that could make me draw attention to myself.”

“Promise.” Below her mask, Hermione’s mouth curled in a smirk. “I have no intention of sharing what’s mine.” Ginny felt a first tendril of heat stir within her core. Hermione relaxed her smirk and tilted her head. “Is that really all, though?”

“I don’t want to feel embarrassed,” Ginny said. “That’s really all. That and my usual limits.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow; with the mask in the way, Ginny could only see the scrunch of her girlfriend’s forehead, but she knew what’d caused it. “So,” Hermione asked deliberately, “you wouldn’t mind if I took control in a more literal sense?”

Surprise parted Ginny’s lips. _Oh._ “Um, not when we’re talking to people. When we’re focused on each other and no one else is, yes, you may.”

The older witch glanced left and right, then fixed Ginny with a predatory smirk. “In that case,” she said darkly, “I no longer ask if I ‘may’ have this dance.” She touched under Ginny’s chin with a finger, lifting and caressing with a come-hither motion. “I _will_ have this dance.” She brought her lips to her girlfriend’s ear and whispered, _“Imperio.”_

Ginny perceived a subtle yet sudden change in the atmosphere: lighter, more relaxed, as if the assembled Who’s Who of British Wizarding were a mere nebulous background, no more substantial or remarkable than clouds drifting across distant sky. Even the very connection between her mind and her body seemed to have gone slack.

Practice, hers and Hermione’s both, enabled Ginny to reconvene her mind inside her head without pushing her girlfriend out. She returned to full awareness of her senses, seeing and hearing and feeling as Hermione walked them hand-in-hand out onto the ballroom floor. Just as Ginny was feeling her body settle into dancing posture, clasping Hermione’s left hand with her right and resting her own on Hermione’s shoulder, the music changed. Now the pulsing rise and fall of a waltz filled the air. Hermione’s right hand pressed warm and delightful against Ginny’s bare back, and she grinned into Ginny’s eyes, brown irises glinting even behind her mask. “Tell me you want me to sweep you away tonight.”

Ginny had no control of her eyes, which gazed deep into Hermione’s, but her girlfriend always left her command of her voice. “Sweep me away,” she answered breathily.

Hermione set off, leading with her hands even as her control compelled Ginny’s body to follow. Ginny’s movement and rhythm flowed as gracefully under Hermione’s control as it did under her own. Perhaps even moreso; Ginny had never quite mastered grace, while Hermione had grown into it. Yet for all that Ginny felt awash on the cresting waves of the waltz, _One-two-three-One-two-three_ , their dancing wasn’t quite so in-sync as when Ginny followed Hermione of her own free will. The thought sent a flicker of pride through her drifting mind.

She had to admit, though, that her girlfriend was only getting better at this. Each circuit of the dance floor felt better than the last, until Hermione mastered the art of dancing two bodies with one will. Ginny glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching. A part of her mind, one she didn’t often admit to harboring, hoped that someone was jealous of them and their dancing. She realized then that she had control of her eyes. Her head, too? Yes. She gave Hermione a warm smile. “I’m so glad I have you.”

An answering affection bloomed in her girlfriend’s eyes, and then a smirk shaded them. “I’m pretty sure it’s I who has you.” Hermione lifted their clasped hands and pressed on Ginny’s back, and Ginny felt her legs moving on their own as she spun under Hermione’s hand and slipped neatly back into her arms. Hermione grinned, then gradually released her control, letting Ginny come back into command of her body without missing a beat. This was its own special kind of wonderful: feeling Hermione’s intent through the press of skin on skin, answering it, adding to it, as they and the music wove a thread of breathless art which they alone could see.

When the waltz ended, Ginny’s mind could hardly keep her upright. She felt as if she’d forgotten how to exist without rhythm, without flow… but she still had Hermione, she realized, and put her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. Hermione’s hands went to her waist, steadied her, embraced her. Ginny let herself melt, gazing into loving brown eyes. Awe for this wonder of a witch radiated through her heart, awe which firmed into desire and then surged into passion.

She kissed Hermione right there on the dance floor.

This time, Hermione was the one surprised, but she warmed to it as quickly as Ginny had earlier, hands tightening, soft lips melding with Ginny’s, tongue eager and inviting. Ginny ended the kiss after only a few seconds; sooner than she would’ve liked, and far sooner than Hermione deserved, but she didn’t want to make a scene.

As their lips parted, Hermione again whispered _“Imperio.”_

Arousal flooded Ginny’s mind even as her mind floated out of her body. That her girlfriend had seized control of her in full view of everyone… her knees would’ve given out, if not for Hermione’s command of them.

“Let’s get ourselves some privacy,” Hermione murmured, lips devilish and decadent beneath her mask. She made Ginny step back from their embrace and lead her by the hand from the dance floor. Ginny was a passenger in her own body as she threaded a path through the crowd to a wall of the ballroom, then along it and through a door. Her pulse picked up in anticipation—or was that Hermione’s doing, too?—when her body stepped over a velvet rope on stanchions and climbed a flight of stairs, the noise of the gala fading with each step she took. Down another hall, around a corner. She turned to Hermione, who drew close and gripped her waist. Hermione grinned, pressing with her hands only for effect as she compelled Ginny to step backwards until her back met a wall. Ginny’s arms moved, lifted, elbows bending to put the backs of her hands against the wall above her head. “I thought I’d take a page from your playbook,” Hermione said smugly. “Find out why you like holding my wrists down so much.”

Ginny gulped, knowing full well how creatively kinky her girlfriend could get, then put on a daring face. “Let me free and I’ll show you myself.”

Hermione chuckled, then ran her hands shamelessly down Ginny’s shoulders and over the curves of her satin-sheathed breasts. “Why oh why did you bet against how captivating you are?” Hermione’s thumbs teased at nipples through the black dress; Ginny ached to arch into the touch, but her body refused to move. All she could do was groan with growing need. “You made your bed,” Hermione said, trying and utterly failing to keep a straight face. “Now I get to lay you in it.”

“Definitely not how that goes,” Ginny muttered—then gasped as her girlfriend groped handfuls of both her breasts.

“I like my version better.” Now Hermione’s eyes were darkening behind her mask, her expression settling into that commanding, self-assured smirk she reserved for Ginny alone. “Spread your legs.”

Ginny found her legs already parting in obedience to her girlfriend. She tried to will them closed, just for the fun of it, and the futility only made more heat pool in her core. She watched in breathless anticipation as Hermione sank to her knees in front of her, hands caressing down her sides as she went, and hoped this was going where it looked like it was going.

 _“Wingardium Leviosa.”_ Ginny felt her gown’s skirt rising up, and up, collapsing in neat accordion folds until it was all gathered about her waist. “Much better,” Hermione purred. “My, my, Ginny,” she said slyly, “matching black satin? How did they talk you out of briefs?” Ginny aimed a suitably devastating glare down at her girlfriend, who grinned back. “No peeking.” Ginny’s neck straightened and her eyes closed. Then she felt fingernails on her legs, skimming, dragging, down and up, around and across, more and more along the insides of her thighs, higher and higher still, until soft fingertips teased at the edges of her knickers. She strained and strained for control to open her eyes and look down, to see what was coming, whether fingers or mouth or—

She let out a whimpering groan as Hermione’s tongue licked wide and flat over her cunt through her knickers. “Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Hermione said. She licked again, this time drawing a throaty sigh from Ginny, then soft gasps as, through the thinnest satin lingerie Ginny had ever worn, she circled Ginny’s hood with the tip of her tongue. Ginny had just begun wondering how long her girlfriend planned to tease when she felt fingers hook inside her knickers and pull them down. Her legs shifted together momentarily to help Hermione undress her, and then Ginny’s eyes opened to find Hermione standing close. “Since you don’t want to draw attention,” the older witch said wickedly, and stuffed the knickers into Ginny’s mouth.

Then Hermione went to work, kissing hot and wet along her helpless girlfriend’s jaw, caressing and stroking and kneading through her gown, compelling her legs apart and grinding her thigh between them. Hermione nipped and sucked hard at Ginny’s neck, momentarily distracting her with worries of showing bruises when they went downstairs, but she remembered that Hermione could erase any evidence of their escapade. She gave herself over to the pleasure and need filling her body, which rocked and shifted as her girlfriend willed.

Ginny whined disappointment into her makeshift gag when Hermione’s leg withdrew from between her legs, but it was only to make room for her hand, fingers stroking the already smeared-slick lips before pressing between them. Ginny shut her eyes and moaned.

“That’s it, Ginny, you’re being so good for me,” Hermione cooed. She slid her other hand into Ginny’s red hair, and another finger into her cunt. “You look so perfect, so beautiful moaning into your knickers.”

Heat and gladness and need for more rushed up and down Ginny’s spine. Her girlfriend always knew what to say, how to make dirty things sweet and sweet things dirty, how to wind up Ginny’s mind as irresistibly as her circling thumb and rocking, curling fingers wound up Ginny’s body. Hermione pulled lightly at the roots of Ginny’s hair to tilt her head and lick hot and wet up the column of her throat, then nibbled at her earlobe. “I bet you’d like to take even more, wouldn’t you, Gin?”

Ginny groaned and nodded against the grip in her hair. Yes, oh _fuck_ yes.

“Good.” With how aroused Hermione was, her purr had descended to a growl. Ginny felt Hermione’s ring finger brush along her labia, then the two fingers inside her slid partway out and all three pressed in together. She groaned at the fullness of it, awash in arousal at being held helpless and irresistibly entered, stretched, filled. When Hermione’s fingers rocked against that spot up inside her, Ginny thought she might come undone; when Hermione’s thumb resumed on her clit, she wondered why she didn’t crash over the edge. Was Hermione holding back her orgasm somehow? The thought sent another flood of heat and wetness through her core.

“ _Yes,”_ Hermione growled. “Such a good little witch, getting so wet for me. I love feeling you soak my hand… oh, Ginny, the way you shake when you’re close, the way your thighs quiver like you’re coming apart at the seams, the way your eyes roll back and—”

Ginny’s body froze as if time itself had stopped on the brink of her orgasm. Every nerve in her body cried out for release, desperate for the convulsing and clenching that’d seemed within her grasp only a moment earlier. This had to be her girlfriend’s doing. Maybe she was using Imperius to prevent the contractions of orgasm?

Then Hermione’s slick thumb skimmed across her clit.

Ginny would’ve shrieked, if she’d been able to move at all. Suspended on the brink of coming, the touch on her most sensitive place was eye-wateringly intense. Hermione circled her clit, not touching it directly, and still Ginny’s body wanted to shy away from the stimulation. She felt something close to fear when her girlfriend smirked and knelt again.

Her almost-orgasm seemed to have ebbed just enough that the touch of Hermione’s tongue didn’t kill her outright. No, Ginny thought, she was doomed to die slowly as feather-light caresses of her girlfriend’s tongue seared her mind senseless. Her panties were a ruined mess in her mouth, her arousal was leaking past her knees—knees which only stayed straight because Hermione wouldn’t let them bend.

And then Hermione gave her more.

Ginny found herself held perfectly still as Hermione’s three fingers eased out. When they returned, all four were clustered together. Ginny gasped and moaned into her gag as her body slowly gave way, vividly aware of each knuckle as more and more of Hermione’s hand entered her, thumb and all. It took an eternity, but finally her head tilted down and she saw Hermione buried nearly to her wrist. All she could do was stare and feel her pulse pound around her girlfriend’s hand.

Hermione rose, slowly, carefully, until she stood eye-to-eye with Ginny. “This, my dear,” she said softly, “is how you’re going to come for me.” She reached down and found Ginny’s clit, and began rocking the hand inside her. Ginny was on the brink in moments.

“Are you ready, Ginny?”

Ginny looked into her girlfriend’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if she could ever be ready for the orgasm she felt awaiting her, but she needed to feel it. She needed to feel Hermione make her feel it. She nodded.

Hermione’s smile was almost non-predatory. Almost. Her fingers outside and in gave Ginny everything she could want, all she could take, and Ginny sensed that this time the muscles in her core were free to do as they pleased. She came shuddering and gasping, too overwhelmed even to cry out, and before her orgasm had even begun to ebb she was clamping around Hermione’s hand and coming again. Suddenly she was free to move, and she collapsed limp against Hermione, eyes leaking against her girlfriend’s shoulder while she shuddered in her arms.

When Ginny at last collected herself, she found that she was kneeling astride Hermione’s lap, hugged close while Hermione eased her hand out from inside her. At some point her knickers had left her mouth. “You’re amazing,” was all she could think to say.

“Maybe.” Her girlfriend’s voice was gentle. “What your body just did was pretty amazing, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny said, sounding hazy in her afterglow.

“I will, later. Not now.” Hermione pulled Ginny into a warm, firm embrace. “Now’s all about you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)


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